Detectives & Lawyers, Prophecies & Horcuxes
by Tangerine-Alert
Summary: His client had another job for him. A case of Harry Potter and his life. The tournament might be over, but contracts hang on and murder is always lurking. Sequel to Dames & Broads, Witches & Wizards.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is a sequel to_ _ **Dames & Broads, Witches & Wizards**_

 **Chapter 1**

The sun was at its zenith and pouring through the large windows as Harry Potter, the wizard, the teenager walked over to them, closing and securing the latches on the hatches over the windows.

The room instead was bathed in an amount of warm light globes, it wasn't dim, it was just lit, he wasn't sure what he'd describe it as, other than 'lighted'.

The steam was still rising off of the cup in the kitchen, and Harry Potter allowed himself to stand and think on it. The steam could have been wafting out of a tea pot. But if he was honest with himself he sometimes couldn't buggered washing the tea pot. Tea bags, bought from the supermarket down the road was just fine.

Harry Potter paused in his thoughts and walked into the other room, just as the door knocked. His instructor was never late, or he hadn't been since he'd met the blood drinker.

Harry Potter put down the mug on the coaster next to one of the chairs where he sat and read at night with the shutters open to the stars.

As the door was knocked on Harry Potter opened the door to the man on the other side allowing him in. Harry Potter smiled to his instructor, it was time to begin the lessons for the day.

 _A few months ago..._

The broad was sweet enough in her own way; hips that swung in just the right way as she sauntered into the room, a skirt hiked up so anyone sitting opposite would know when she last had a piss, and pouty lips that your imagination just wanted to do dirty things with.

But that wasn't fooling him, the broad had a good body, but she wasn't the one in control.

There was a dame in there somewhere. Polyjuice potion.

That business with his client was also a poly-job. He'd wondered at the time why the big man, Dumbledore hadn't picked him up on it. If you knew what you were looking for you could tell.

This broad might look like a broad, smell like a broad and have legs that swung open like barn doors.

But she wasn't. The dame in there was good, but not good enough. Good enough for a disguise and she'd done a good job with it.

This dame needed her husband investingatin', stolen potions ingredients, which was where she obviously got her hands on the poly. She'd have to be a good brewer if she had managed to brew it, under a potion dealer's nose.

Powerful family too and harsh marriage rules, you needed rock hard proof. Proof that meant you didn't get the Ministry involved. You dealt with it in private. Or if not you got someone to dump the remains in a big or dirty body of water.

She left swishing those hips that weren't hers after depositing a wad of money, muggle and wizarding on his desk.

She'd be in touch. That was delivered with a pout filled kiss.

Always liked it when they pretended to mean it, and she pretended real hard.

-/

The pad on his desk, the one his secretary used informed him his next client was ready. One that had him on retainer.

That narrowed the list, but she liked to keep him on his toes. So he wouldn't drink too much during the day.

Drinkin' was the only way to get through some days, some days he liked to get so drunk he could barely stagger home.

On the bad days he'd drink the good stuff and get a bit of bad stuff off someone cheap in an alley. It never made him feel better, but those brief moments felt good. He only did that to beat away the dark stuff. That was the stuff that kept him going and keepin' it away.

-/

His client; Harry Potter walked into the room, he'd obviously been to tailors the blood drinkers recommended. Black suited him. Suited most people. A white suit was hard to wear, blood was a pain to get out of 'em.

Every time he wore a white suit he got blood on it. Weddings were always a shit storm when he was required. He never attended them otherwise.

His client was still having troubles, he'd hired his own legal to get him outta the contract that despite being voided by use of the poly, wasn't.

Seemed, that was what brought him back to his office he thought as he lit another up, taking a deep breath and blew out the smoke. The fan continued rotating. Sometimes when he was blind he fancied the fan judged him for the habit.

Those were odd times drunk on too much good alcohol. Bad liquor just made you vomit, not have complex thoughts about your ceiling fan.

"Everythin' working out with you and the blood drinkers?" I asked him once he was seated, I didn't offer him a drink, I knew his answer to that one.

He nodded, though was guarded still. He was more guarded than when I'd first met him. A little less open and more world wise was always a good thing.

Honest people were really hard to find in a world this fucked up.

"I wanted to employ you for another job." He said with some uncertainty. It had to have something to do with the troubles he'd been having, legal could only do so much, within the law. You needed someone that worked outside of that badly oiled machine.

Grit was something it disliked.

His next request I didn't see comin', but it made sense. I'd been asked the question before, by amnesiacs and spell backfires. I'd even been approached recently by an estate of some ponce; a fake. But he'd pissed me off in the past, they didn't know it. But I remembered what he'd done. We've got long memories, that's what stops ya getting knifed in the back, and remembered when to return the favour, I've found at least.

"I want you to investigate me." He said it with such calm, though there was still somethin' nervous in his tone.

He was giving me free reign, this kid knew some things, about his parents deaths, but it was the little things, the things in records, in the big books they let the kids read. Or more to the point he knew the things that weren't, and the whys that kept creeping up and threatening to slit his throat in the night.

Not that anyone could slip in during the night where his client was staying.

Contracts and such were complicated, and so he says issues kept creepin' up threatening to slit his throat in the night.

Law was messy shit, that's why I tended not to wade into it, when I could avoid it I did.

He mentioned his guardians.

Muggles.

If ya had enough money, and he did if he'd got a team together to work through the contract sides of things, the magical world didn't care. Unless it involved the magics, then it cared.

But the muggle side was darn curious for me. Way he put it, he'd been dropped with them and wasn't going back.

Taste of freedom was a hard one to fight.

Like my first taste of the bottle.

Rememberin' that that I poured myself another.

The man at Hogwarts, his involvement was gonna make things interestin', thought he had plenty of power.

I enjoyed interestin' work, I also liked to beat a scumbag into the cobbles around the alleys. Wizards never expected physical contact and there was a kinda amusing noise they made went they went down.

Like a balloon loosing its air slowly.

Kinda like an amusing whoopie cushion, with a bunch of red spray.

A/N:

 _After the positive reaction to_ _ **Dames & Broads, Witches & Wizards **__I thought I would take another stab at writing this universe again and this voice for the narrator; the (unnamed) private detective._

 _I've given my best stab at this sequel, like the first I admit maintaining the private detective's voice and narrative perspective is really hard and in some chapters I veer away just because I couldn't move the story forward without doing so. But I have tried to maintain a similar aesthetic when I do drift away from the private detective._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

First stop was the muggles' records offices.

Hatches, matches and dispatches. I only ever really worried about the last two. No need for a guy like me when you're popping out a sprog.

The muggles, they loved their paperwork. There were files of everything and ever more on them computers they were usin' all the time.

It's usually a good thing, for a wizard when you know how to play 'em. Getting information is one thing, but using the same system to hide, especially from wizards that's something else.

I remember hearing about records offices as being dark dusty places, where you could have a smoke whilst delving into a swine's dark past.

This wasn't, but it was ordered, but then I'd spelled every person between here and the entrance, they wouldn't know if pigs flew on past for the next hour or so. After that they'd have one hell-a-hangover.

That's what happens when you're casting spells after swigging from a fifth of gut rot.

My client didn't exist.

Funny that.

Petunia and Vernon Dursley.

Parents to one child.

One Dudley Dursley; born: 23rd June 1980.

No sign of any adoption papers lodged. No information at all of a second child comin' too them.

Interesting was one word, mighty curious was another.

-/

Wizards didn't have records office, not like muggles. The muggles loved bureaucracy so did wizards but they also liked bribes.

I'd be pissing in the wind if I tried to find anything with the Ministry, especially with my client having escaped a sanctioned Ministry "sport".

If I went through official channels.

You never found anythin' remotely interesin' if you went through those.

The fun's to be had in the back alley with the bruisers and the whores.

-/

My client had gone to school, the same one as Dudley had before they'd gone their separate ways, education wise.

Schools always had pitiful security, primary schools especially be it muggle or the handful of magical schools. At least the ones I've broken into.

Night covers all tracks and this was no different. A quick charm allowed me access.

I always get a bit of a tingle breaking into the records rooms of school, muggle school mistresses have always been a weakness, maybe it was just the ones that liked it during the day in their back office. Sweetest ones to the students and the nasties ones behind closed doors.

Order is what the muggle teachers liked. I'd been with a couple of broads who liked to order me around, liked to play at bein' in control and then when the right time came they wanted to give it all away. The perfect time for them.

But being here at night, that was another type of control.

Amateurs reach for the light switch, to illuminate the room, it's instinctual for muggles and surprisingly for a lotta wizards too.

There's probably something in it, some messed up psychology about buildings.

I didn't reach for anything when I walked in, I had a muggle torch and my wand, but didn't need either of them, there was enough light coming in from outside.

The lighting to stop vandals, rather than people like me.

My client's school record was simple enough to find. I didn't read it there, instead I took out a sheath of papers from my coat and copied the information across. A nice somewhat illicit charm to make practically perfect copies.

It could be perfect, but I sometimes messed the latter incantations. Better to stay a short time than gettin' caught with your pants down and a hooker adding to the rainbow.

As an after thought I grabbed his cousin's record too. Just in case.

-/-/

Back in the office with a glass of cheap enough spirits and the wireless on quietly in the background I pulled out the records I'd liberated.

Harry James Potter. Allergies; None. There was a note in hard handwriting from the school nurse. They were in my experience hard. Only in fantasies or with hookers were they sexy.

My client had bad eyesight until it was noticed by a teacher, the nurse had written: guardians required some convincing of need. Eye sight test attached. And there it was several pages of a test in the file.

"Interestin'." I said lighting up again. Reading all this health stuff was getting to me. Attached to the eye sight test was an invoice for glasses with a signature angrily scrawled on it.

Some people just think a signature is a signature, your mark of you for legal. But it's like all writing you can tell emotions from it. This guy was angry. Also sweating judgin' from the ink smudge on the page. Could have been my copying spell though.

What was interesting I thought as I inhaled a deep lungful of smoke into me chest was that it was private. If this guy Dursley had wanted to save a buck he'd have done it through the muggle NHS, no cost, maybe some wait, but it looked like this guy had waited plenty of time. So instead he'd paid a private guy to do the glasses work for him.

You do that sorta thing when you're trying to hide.

I wrote a note for my secretary, she could find out if the eye doc was legit, a muggle phone call the next day or their paper directory. Simple work. I didn't need to shove my wand into his business unless he was part of it.

It, though was lookin' to be somethin'...

-/-/

Mornings, should have brought the start of a new day. Song birds and all that Beedle the Bard shit.

'Stead I was where I had to be, instead of where I wanted to be – in bed.

I'd decided somewhere between pissing in an alleyway and taking a dump before bed that I'd need to go back to the source.

My client wanted answers about his life; where to start; at the beginning.

Lilly Evans and James Potter.

From my talk with my client I'd found out he didn't know much about their demise, apart from the official stuff.

Godric's Hollow was still on the official list, though my client didn't indicate he knew anything about it. I'd told my secretary to remind me, I needed to have a sit down with my client and let him know the truth.

The place was popular, or used to be, the double murder of the Potters tended to drive down prices for a while. Dumbledores and Bagshots, they had lived here.

Now it looked as if even the pub was dark and empty. It was morning, that never stopped me. Instead I paused to light up and breath in a lungful of smoke, cover so I could look around. There was no one, just some muggles goin' about their day.

I knew I'd find nothing useful at the cemetery, but went there anyways, took a photo of the grave, just so I had some pictures to build of my client's life. And maybe he'd just want to see that, some people don't want to go near grave sites.

The memorial in the town was reserved, subtle even. For muggles it was 'some war', for wizards three subtle figures. My client's parents and himself as a baby.

Seeing somethin' like that'll fuck you up if you see it in the wrong context.

I'd seen it happen to a few, I'd done it to a few, just to get them to talk, seen their mind just about snap and then whip the sheet off, surprisin' them about it all.

I turned around and walked the length of Godric's Hollow.

As I got to the house my client's parents were killed in I took it in. Nothing here to reveal facts, just stuff that messes people up. I took some photos, just in case my client didn't want to come by. I was diggin' up the past for him, not making him relive it all.

He wanted answers, explanations, not a mystery tour.

-/-/

Lightly drunk was how I thought of myself, lightly drunk and in thought.

I'd needed to check out another client's business in of all places a pub. A full meal to stay vaguely sober had helped matters.

Not I kinda missed feeling more drunk.

I spread out what I'd gathered of my other client out on my desk, Harry James Potter.

James Potter and Lilly Evans, dead.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley, they were my client's relatives. Not magical.

"How in Merlin's name did you end up with him?" I said tapping my wand on the pictures in thought.

I could have a chat with them, that might be therapeutic for my hands.

-/

 _A/N:_

 _Next chapter will be a slightly different narrative pace and point of view. The detective will still appear, but Harry will as well._

 _As mentioned last chapter it's a hard style and point of view to sustain for any length of time._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Harry Potter sat in a room with a bunch of lawyers.

This was what he did when he wasn't in his flat, _learning_ from the less salubrious members of magical society.

The lawyers were the best _independent_ law professionals who knew 'knew their thing' about muggle and magical law. The latter being complex, the former being tedious according the man, the wizard, the private detective who was also under payment from him. His task was as pressing as the many that was discussed here.

"I feel old." He exhaled roughly.

Even though the Tri-Wizard Tournament was finished and gone from Hogwarts the legal matters went on.

One thing that was clear; he couldn't go back to Hogwarts as a student, or 'as a state in the matter in whych the contract upon which the individual entered may not be returned if subject breaks contract law'. He had wanted to ask why 'which' was mis-spelled but it didn't seem important.

Just because the term of the contract had been wrapped up - the Tri-Wizard had ended with Cedric nearly dead and the others injured didn't mean that he was out of it.

That wasn't how magical law worked.

"We have one piece of good news Mr Potter." Harry looked to a pair of lawyers two women who sometimes he felt had steel talons, viciously wielded and it made him glad they were under his employ.

Harry nodded. "Given the information from your..." They trailed off, the other man whom he'd asked to dig into his life.

"Him, the private investigator." Harry provided.

"Has provided us with information suggesting you were never formerly placed or adopted by the Dursleys. Together with the significant evidence of your relatives'..." They trailed off again.

Harry had become used to this in the past 10 months or so, he'd had to become harder and more aware of his situation. 'The world will fuck you up Harry, you've got to deal with it, or it will fuck you and leave you by the train tracks, bloody and beaten', it was something one of the associates of one of his tutors had said to him.

"Abuse." Harry said. It was a nasty word.

The lawyer nodded. "Yes. We intend to argue for extraordinary circumstances."

Harry nodded. "I will need to continue with magical tutors?" He asked the table.

There was a positive sort of nodding.

"And a return to Hogwarts?" He pressed, he had run and escaped because he thought it was the only way, every so often he wondered what it might have been like to stay, to remain and fight it out there against whatever horrors the Tri-Wizard might have thrown.

"Unlikely Mr Potter." Said the head lawyer in the wizarding matters. "If you return, the contract and the wizarding laws associated will still be in play, despite Headmaster Dumbledore's assurances to the contrary."

Harry exhaled. "Anything else?"

"Our request for your remaining items at Hogwarts has been approved and they will be transferred to your current residence following vetting for curses by a counters department."

Harry brightened at this information. "Thank you, that is something good."

-/

Albus Wulferic Brian Dumbledore.

Peter Pettigrew

Sirius Black.

Rubeus Hagrid.

Minerva McGonagall.

He tapped the list with his wand bringing the names up onto a board. His client's early life, right after Voldemort was complicated.

His client had enlightened him, about the secret keeper, things his client had subsequently learnt, maybe because of my diggin' I'm not sure.

Kicks the dust up, scountin' around, looking.

One was the secret keeper, one was the godfather, one had whisked his client away, one had directed him and one had watched and done nothing.

-/

"You." She said.

It was the end of the school year, she'd returned to her home, finding that had been tricky.

I didn't bother introducing myself, she remembered me, I had that effect on some people.

It didn't take much to get invited in, mention of a discussion she had with the Supreme Mugwump himself back all those years in the early 1980s.

"How?" She almost hissed like a pissed off pussy as I was allowed inside.

I wondered if the truth, that there were some guys near by indulging in the outdoors, who'd found each other via cottage door. The encounter hadn't been too memorable for one of them, the conversation had taken some convincin' to get out of him.

But I found his...motivation eventually.

Just finding him had been a task my secretary was worth double, I'd given her a bonus plus triple time for the amount of people she must've spoken to in order to find him and his one night beau.

"Mr Potter will not be returning to Hogwarts." She asked as she offered him a cup of something that looked like tea.

I received a glare as I prepped it with something from my pocket. "Just in case you're tryin' to poison me." I said in a joking manner.

She looked at me as though she knew I wasn't jokin', the spirit within was just that and somethin' more. Special like, special and expensive, though saved me more than once.

"I couldn't say. That's with the lawyers now, so my client says." I said to her sipping from her fine china. Expensive, the tea and the china.

"I know the situation Mr Potter finds himself in." She stirred her own tea looking at me. "I trust he is continuing to be educated." She again asked without it seemin' like a question, all knowing.

I kinda liked that in a way.

Never too old, I thought with a smirk to myself.

"He's not sent any letters to his friends, I would know." She said.

I bet you would.

"From what I understand it's a lawyer thing." I said, there seemed nothing explaining that.

"Then I am sure you can pass onto Mr Potter that if he sends his communiques to me care of the Three Broomsticks I will pass them along." She said with a slight amusement in the eyes.

I nodded, seemed like something my client may want to do. But I wouldn't speak for him. He's his own man. Even if the law didn't see him quite like that yet, he had more spine than plenty in the wizarding world.

"Now, you came to me to speak of that night."

She liked control, even for a witch of her years, I liked that in a woman.

-/

I left Minerva McGonagall's house needing a piss and full of information.

Lighting up as I walked away I thought to apparate but instead walked, I needed to piss before I disappareted anywhere.

Plus I needed to think, things were getting nasty complicated.

-/

Rubeus Hagrid had delivered Harry Potter into Dumbledore's hands. Then Dumbledore had left him with Petunia and Vernon Dursley.

Still didn't make a lotta sense.

They wouldn't do anything outta the kindness of their heats.

I'd seen Dementors with cloaks lighter than the Dursley's hearts.

I wasn't sure Vernon would even be able to spell 'compassion'.

-/

"Money." I said, lookin' at their glassy eyed faces.

Veritaserum was mighty expensive and I'd only done it after askin' my client. I didn't tell him the specifics, just I needed to have words with his, hopefully by month's end _former_ guardians. Good for him. He was already on his own two feet, a man needs that, break the chains and all that. It was part of the reason I went into employment for myself. Only me and the secretary to worry about.

" _I want as much as you can tell me."_ My client had said. He'd paused at the extra price for the Veritaserum and simply said "Whatever you need to get the job done.".

I liked that in a client. Free reign to do whatever I wanted.

Working without Veritaserum means you can get kinda creative, Veritaserum lets you jump a few hurdles, even a few fences if you knew how to use it proper.

I wouldn't need to pamper my hands on Vernon Dursley today.

No, today was much simpler.

Money.

They weren't stupid, not completely.

Privet Drive was the model of the perfect muggle residence.

By Merlin it was depressing. I felt like I needed a drink just to get in the door, and I'd been in some of the dankest locations in wizarding Britain.

I'd stunned them after extracting all the information I'd needed, mighty interestin' it was.

My client hadn't mentioned anythin' about his living situation, but looking around the house I'd guessed.

I hated when I was right in situations like this.

Course my client would be a tough man, he grew up here.

-/

 _A/N:_

 _Here I've broken away from the private detective-focused narrative just for a little bit. I feel like Harry's scenes are still in black and white with some yellowing at the edges. But it was just a brief glimpse into his world that I wanted to show._

 _I did consider going into more detail about the night when Harry was left at the Dursleys, but in trying to write something I felt it didn't matter to how this story is constructed. Or rather how I'd play that information against the private detective and Minerva._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Harry felt little as they arrived, Lyle his...valet letting go of him.

The wizard who had just apparated him was an individual of few words of observation, his lawyers had recommended the association he belonged to when he'd asked how he might get around, without muggle means since he wasn't old enough to drive. His time at the wheel of Ron's dad's car notwithstanding.

Lyle waited at the gates to the cemetery as Harry walked up to the graves.

The private investigator had provided with the information so far.

It'd been almost 4 months since he'd engaged him to discover his...well his past, what it meant.

The private investigator had been sort of reluctant, 'not until I know everything'. But he'd told him some things, that he should know.

Like this.

Harry sank to his knees, weeping.

He wished...he wished so many things.

The sun was still overhead when he finally got up, wiping his face, he knew he'd been here a long time. But no one had disturbed him in doing so.

"Godric's Hollow." He said to himself as he walked back towards the gate.

-/

He didn't remember the house, only from photos did he know it.

A noise of a dog barking made him jump, feel relieved and then saddened slightly as a golden labrador ran past him.

Harry found himself thinking of Sirius, whom he'd not heard from since he'd made his escape from Hogwarts and of the wizarding contract he was still trying to extricate himself from.

-/

It had taken some time, to get here, to this point, with events seemingly overtaking them in many avenues.

Harry Potter sat in a large room within the Ministry of Magic, with him were seemingly most of the lawyers, more so than he'd seen before. They'd seemingly wanted to come prepared, or ready for a fight.

He was, at least in the eyes of Her Majesty's Government responsible for himself, his own matters, legally he was no longer a minor and an 'adult' for all maters concerning his own rights. Except for drinking, driving and voting, all of that he had to wait.

The private detective had also told him to tell the police of his treatment at the hands of the Dursleys, no matter that for the first 14 years of his life he didn't really exist in any firm sense of the word. Or he existed in the least amount of the word that could be considered. Now he did.

"As you will see Her Majesty's Government recognises Mr James Potter under special circumstances as being without a legal guardian..." One of his lawyers was telling someone from the Ministry.

It wasn't Fudge, this guy seemed to be more...like a lawyer, one who seemed annoyed.

Professor Dumbledore was also present at the table, he'd not said anything, he just kept looking to Harry.

Harry tried not to look, wary of the private investigator's words and advice.

'Never look deep into the eyes of anyone who you wouldn't trust to cup your meat and veg'.

"Why is Albus Dumbledore here? This was to be a closed meeting." Asked one of his other lawyers, one he'd not met before but seemed annoyed that Dumbledore was in the room.

It had taken a lot of tooing and frowing just to get into this room, the contract was still up in the air, but Harry wanted to hear what was in the Ministry's depths, what was hiding down there.

What, it seemed his life, the way it had happened had been about, what had triggered it.

"I witnessed the prophecy." Dumbledore replied simply.

Harry felt his hands ball into fists as he forced himself not to say a word. He'd been asked by his lawyers not to say anything unless asked a question. The magical contract still hanging over him anything he said or potentially did may be used against him.

"If you had simply returned to Hogwarts Harry we could have resolved this." Dumbledore began to say.

Harry looked to his lawyers, there was a small nod. "And the contract? According to the best lawyers your assurances would not have-" Harry was cut off.

"Not stood up against the force of magical law." One of his lawyers finished.

Harry nodded in thanks.

"You do not wish to return Harry, to your friends, classes, Quidditch?" The Headmaster asked.

Harry had been warned by the private investigator that he would probably be manipulated, guilt tripped and the like. Except he'd said it in more colourful ways than that.

"For the record Supreme Mugwump Dumbledore." One of the other more senior lawyers began. "Harry James Potter cannot and will not return to Hogwarts while there are outstanding illegal magical contracts held against him that were over sought by yourself at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Any further attempts to persuade or compel Harry James Potter to return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be noted and provided during the further legal matters concerning the magical contract involving the 1994 Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"That is understood." Said the Ministry official who was looking between Harry and Dumbledore. "I" He paused and coughed. "Will make preparations for you to hear the prophecy." He stood and walked to the door and waited. "Professor?"

Dumbledore looked over at the man. "I thought I might wait with Harry." He said innocently looking to Harry.

"No." Said one of his lawyers, Harry was relieved that he didn't have to answer the headmaster.

-/

And now he knew.

Harry sat back on his sofa looking out at the darkening night, he'd been in a stupor ever since the Ministry. He didn't know what to...what.

He wished he drank, or something, but it all smelt like...he didn't know. His private investigator had offered him a glass once, but it had all smelt like boot cleaner.

"What now?" He said to himself.

-/

 _A/N:_

 _Lots of a wood panelling and a fire on one side of the room. That's how I imagine the room in the Ministry where Harry meets Dumbledore and the man from the Ministry in._

 _While the private detective isn't in this chapter, I've tried to keep the somewhat paired back style of the story going. Very few of Harry's internal musings written out, an altogether more stark sort of narrative._


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I'd never seen my client look this wrecked before.

Revelations will do that to ya, in the extreme sense it messes up your whole life.

At least my client was still functioning.

I hadn't had much experience with prophecies.

Some said it was just the mutterings of the borderline nut jobs.

But some of those prophecies, they blew the heads, occasionally literally off the seer's body.

"I wanted to know how it's been going, with everything, with me?" He said after he'd accepted the really strong tea my secretary had made for him. Some fancy Chinese imported tea she kept for special occasions.

I thought it smelt like a house fire, but then my nose is like that sometimes.

It kept my clients happy, the fancy drinks she made for them.

He told me the prophecy, after I'd made sure we weren't being observed. Even an office like mine had to be swept for bugs all the time.

He had another task for me, one I had to pass up the chain. I don't go in for the big bads, I don't even wanna think about them if I can help it.

But if you've got the cash anything can be sorted.

-/

He should have been half way through his sixth year at Hogwarts.

That's what Hermione was saying to him, chastising him for it.

Then pausing and apologising.

The law was the problem.

 **Still** the problem.

The newest problem his lawyers had found was the extra-legal status that Hogwarts took on when it hosted the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

It meant that it carried extra legal ramifications for people participating in the tournament, a lot of which was never mentioned to anyone involved in it.

It was all just 'implied understanding'.

Supposedly they were discovering some new things in fighting their way through it.

Currently while he was free to go about his life Hogwarts was out of the question. He couldn't set foot on the grounds without re-opening himself to the contract.

Questions still remained about the legality of it. That it hadn't been him that put his name in the cup was not one of them. Anyone could nominate anyone.

"Flawed." Hermione said. "Is putting it lightly."

He'd got himself a different flat, a nice one in London, so he could continue his studies, protected still by the blood drinkers' associates, just, somewhere he could make his own. He'd needed it after the prophecy and its revelations.

However, there was still significant danger out there.

That was putting it lightly.

"No Ron?" Harry asked passing Hermione a fresh cup of tea.

"The Headmaster-" She began.

Harry cut her off. "Dumbledore. I'm not sure if he'll ever be a Headmaster to me again Hermione." He said in a tone that was just...it was just that.

Hermione nodded. "It's a fascinating case, I read about some of it, the bits that are being written about in the Ministry essay journals. Your lawyers are really going for it Harry." She smiled.

Harry exhaled and leaned back into the sofa. It was an old one he'd found at auction. Its deep green yet slightly warn exterior made him think of...not Hogwarts, not exactly but that warm feeling Gryffindor had.

"Are you doing something about the prophecy Harry? Preparing...?" Hermione asked. She'd only mentioned it once before, to say that Dumbledore had told herself and Ron the gist of it though not the contents. Just in case he did something stupid.

Harry exhaled. Pausing before replying, reflecting.

It was a little under 7 months ago, when Sirius' body had been discovered.

He'd wanted to do something, to get revenge.

But in the words of the private investigator 'there's people for that'.

Voldemort might have followers, but Harry had several very high interest accounts, which enabled certain things.

He'd never have enough for an army. But this was the 20th century. You didn't need one.

"I'm doing something about it." He said after a moment's pause and reflection on what to say to her.

-/

"I feel like I'm propping up your whole agency."

The senior lawyer before him laughed. "We have many other clients Harry, few that have such ancient magic associated with them and such a prophecy too." He flipped back through the pages.

Harry had one in front of him that was a list of 'horcruxes'.

"We're serving Dumbledore with an order compelling him to reveal all information about these and anything else relating to Voldemort."

"Will that work?" Harry asked. "Fudge was dithering."

"Rufus Scrimgeour's different. At least he's more aware of the legal profession."

"War..." Harry trailed off. "That's what everyone's trying to avoid."

"That's what we all try to avoid Harry." He said.

-/

Wars.

That's what these people had survived.

That's why they came recommended.

Witches, Wizards, Squibs.

Dangerous.

Skilled.

They were expensive.

They also had morals, supposedly.

They wouldn't take _any_ job.

Maybe scruples was a better term.

They'd met him with his lawyers and the private investigator since both those groups had been looking into his life. Different aspects. But these 'horcruxes' were complicated and they also revolved around him.

Prophecies were like that.

-/

He'd have the face Voldemort himself.

Harry had sworn.

 _Very_ creatively, so his blood drinking tutor had said with some amusement.

He would face Voldemort, though not alone, not uninformed.

And not without backing.

Rufus Scrimgeour had been not as bad as Fudge. He still wanted a pound of flesh for the cameras.

But Harry had learnt, had been instructed in how to play things, play things to his advantage.

Dumbledore and the International Confederation of Wizards were attempting to extricate themselves from the issues concerning the magical contract, still on going in investigation.

Appearing before the media with Scrimgeour had been the 'lesser of two piles of dragon dung'.

He'd hated the media, he still did, he continued to hate it.

But everyone knew about Voldemort, more so than Dumbledore's attempts after Cedric had been injured.

They also knew about the horcruxes and the information Dumbledore had kept secret, forcing his lawyers to go through the laborious process of forcing him to give it up, using the full force of the law and then some.

Harry still didn't know how he felt about this, this forcing of Dumbledore.

'It's a hard world out there, shit has to be thrown sometimes', so said the private investigator.

Harry didn't like being in the dark, and it seemed his whole life had been in the dark and carefully controlled by Dumbledore.

Right the way back.

He knew Sirius had told him about being his godfather. But he'd not really thought about what that had meant.

What if, instead of Hagrid taking him as a baby Sirius had been allowed to take his godson?

Harry tried not to let himself be lost in these thoughts of what might have been. Especially considering what had happened to Sirius.

He didn't want to think about those things sometimes.

-/

He'd been dead.

That's what they'd said.

CPR, magical revival. All that.

Everything had been in black and white when he'd been...where ever it had been.

It was almost like he had an internal monologue and it had narrated everything.

It'd all been a bit weird.

Sirius had been there, both of him. The dog and the wizard.

They'd stood and watched a shrivelled baby-like creature slowly die in what looked like a library or it might have been a train station. He wasn't sure.

Maybe it was good to not know?

-/

Harry stood at the gates of Hogwarts.

He _still_ wasn't able to walk onto the grounds of Hogwarts. The magical contract was still working its way through wizarding society. The International Confederation of Wizards now fighting for its very survival.

"Mr Potter."

"Professor McGonagall." Harry said greeting her, she'd somehow managed to creep up behind him.

"I'm no longer your professor Mr Potter, I hear you have a private qualification above what Hogwarts caters for." She looked at him carefully.

"I suppose I do." He said.

"And congratulations are in order." She said.

"Voldemort." Harry smiled. The actual death, the fight had been controlled. As much as it could be. The Death Eaters were being cleared up. The announcement wouldn't be till later.

"Indeed." She said. "Are you alright Harry?"

Harry nodded looking up at the castle. "I didn't want this to happen. I thought this would be my home, where I'd discover wonderful things, explore..." He shook his head.

"I know Mr Potter." She paused. "It takes great bravery to recognise when something is wrong and to step away from it. Even more to continue on in the face of opposition."

-/

I had a big file for my client. His history, what I hadn't told him already, and that which I had. The stuff that hadn't been used by the lawyers, and some that had.

The question of 'why me' still troubled him, I could tell. No one wants to have a prophecy pointed at them, destiny and all that bullshit.

It had been a long project, longer than most.

"If you've got any other secrets hiding, you've kept them well hidden." I said patting the large box. It'd been a year or three since I'd first met him.

He nodded.

I didn't ask him what he was going to do now.

He had his whole life to work out what to do about that.

"Thank you." He said as he picked up the box, he paused by the door. He looked like he was going to say something but decided against it.

-/

 _A/N:_

 _Much like the first story_ _ **Dames & Broads, Witches & Wizards **__this one I began with ideas of how to do it. But the voice of the private detective is_ _incredibly_ _hard to sustain. As can be seen from the last three chapters where I've stepped back from the private detective's voice / POV to tell the story._

 _I've still tried to maintain a 'cold' sort of perspective for Harry's section._

 _There isn't a third story in this series, what I learnt from writing these two stories is the POV/style is very hard to maintain. However some of the ideas that came about while I was writing this story might make their way into future stories. Just ways of thinking about the HP universe._

 _Thanks for reading._


End file.
